


The Day We Met (Was When My Dreams Came True)

by lostinthesounds



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: ADVENTURE!, Angst, Bellamy is the rebel we all know and love, Bellamy stole the crown to exchange for his sister's release from jail, Bellarke, Clarke is the lost princess, Clarke protection squad anyone?, Clarke thinks she causes death, Diana is the evil woman who kidnaps her to raise, Diana thinks she could escape death if she keeps Clarke isolated, F/M, Fluff, Inspired by Tangled (2010), The Wanheda legend exists, There's gonna be lots of fluff I can't lie, soft!bellarke
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:14:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22623898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostinthesounds/pseuds/lostinthesounds
Summary: When the princess is kidnapped days after her first birthday by a mysterious woman hidden behind a hood, she barely has any recognition of her life before living in the ten story tower that she's been stuck inside for the past seventeen years.Everything seemed to change the week before her eighteenth birthday, when a masked bandit climbs up the side of the tower and enters her home without permission. Clarke had one wish her entire life, which was to see the lanterns float into the night sky on her birthday. With her mother gone on a trade deal, it seemed logical to ask the man that introduces himself as Blake to take her to see them.The only issue? Clarke doesn't let anyone touch her, afraid that they would die because of the titleWanhedaplaced upon her name. When flashes of her childhood start to haunt her, Blake had slowly inched his way into her fragile heart and she feels herself gravitating towards the Queen's crown that he stole. She had no honest clue about what was real or true anymore.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 4
Kudos: 20





	1. Mother Knows Best

**Author's Note:**

> AHHH! 
> 
> okay, so I'm so very thrilled to start this story and see where my creativity goes with this tangled! inspired bellarke fic. For the longest time, I've been trying (more than once) to write this out, and being that it's been over a year since I've tried to do so, I want to give it a real authentic shot. I hope you all enjoy, and I'm so excited I feel like I can't breathe. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, and feel free to leave any comments or kudos to show me some love. It means so much, and I'll try my best to update frequently (and in words of Rapunzel herself, I won't break that promise.)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’ll tell you what,” She begins. “When the real show happens in a few days, I’ll bring you one of those floating lights that has fallen to the ground from the mainland.” 
> 
> Clarke almost forgot about that. The fact that another, the real light show adorned by the presence of the King and Queen would occur the night of her birthday. The night when she’d be alone and force herself to fall asleep after finding nothing else to do because a girl could only watch the lights rise for so long before it stung to realize she wasn’t there with everyone else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tell me if you guys love it!

* * *

She stared blankly at the canvas in front of her, excitement bubbling through her chest as the clock ticks above her. 

Forgetting what color she meant to grab, Clarke thinks about what her painting was missing for a second. 

_Yellow!_

Clarke tries to balance on one leg while reaching over to grab the paint from the suspended bin next to her, and sighs blissfully when she finds the perfect shade of sunflower yellow that would finally finish her painting. She had to squeeze the most recent lantern in between the ones she painted last year, only making a tiny mistake in smearing the wet orange paint against her palm. 

The painted gold and sapphire blue colored lights which adorned her bedroom walls kept record of how many nights she’s spent wishing she was outside-it was the only way she could tell her time apart-and she couldn’t help herself when she smiled wide at her mother who passes by her room. She was glad to finish the outline of the design before the first show began, wanting to spend the next day painting the newest print of the floating lights on her wall. 

She calls out, “Mom!” and tries not to hurt herself when she navigates her way back down the ladder to her concrete floor. “It’s almost time for the show.” 

Soon enough, her mother’s slippers are heard walking into the large room and she teases her daughter lightly. “Is it time already? I’m packing for the trip tomorrow.” Clarke’s eyes widen at the realization, the frown on her mother’s face was making the blonde nervous, knowing she would be alone for her birthday. From what she was told during breakfast that morning, her mother would leave on a trip with one of her friendly merchants who would travel to the outskirts of Arkadia to find the best fabric and fruits to sell back home. 

Clarke’s eyes dart towards the window, the only outlook she had in the world, and she could hear faint trumpets start to blare and she starts to panic. While setting her messy paint brushes in a cup to be cleaned later, she runs over to take in the view of the castle lamps being lit and the smell of smoke filling the air. She pokes her head out of the small window, having no fear of falling. She reminds her mother in a hushed tone, “We do this at the start of every test run, there’s no time to break tradition.” 

The trumpets get louder, and so does her excitement. It had been the same thing every year for as long as she could remember. The memories fill her head of staying up all night, the giddiness she felt when she took a paintbrush into her delicate hands and crossed out the last remaining lantern on her wall -- it felt magical. If she was honest, it was one of the few times she ever was satisfied with her knowledge of the outside. It was her _only_ opportunity really. Clarke turns around and bounces on the heels of her feet, “It’s almost starting, can you grab-"

Her mother crouches and picks a basket from the floor, one that Clarke didn’t notice she had until she says, “These?” 

Her eyes light up brighter than the sun, she’s sure of it. She scans the items of multiple hair ties and brushes and flowers from the grass that sat below the tower and she nods frantically before sitting herself down in front of the scenery in front of her. _It was happening._ She gets comfortable as she crosses her legs over the other, and sighs as the familiar sound of a stool gliding against the floor was heard and her mother’s fingers start to run through her hair. 

  
  


In the distance she could see dozens of torches start to light, and she feels the same sense of longing deep in her chest that’s there almost every day. It’s more prominent on these days because it’s special, and just like her own birthday, she wanted to be celebrated too. Seeing the first wave of lanterns light the sky, filling the sorrow in her heart, it made Clarke forget about the reality of why she’s in a twenty five foot tower for the entirety of her life. And she’s about to be _eighteen_. 

She’s spent eighteen years locked away, for something she can’t even control. 

“Relax your shoulders,” Her mother says. 

Clarke does it on command, shaking her head to rid herself of the thoughts that threaten to consume her. _Don’t think about what you can’t have_ , she thinks. For comfort, she leans back until her back rests against her mother’s legs. “I can’t wait for the ceremony to start.” 

  
  


“I had thought that something was wrong earlier,” Her mother states, her fingers beginning to thread a few pieces of hair at the top of her head. “I could usually tell how excited you are from a mile away, and you were quiet.” 

  
  


“Oh well,” Clarke feels the nerves spread, the direction of the conversation wasn’t going how she expected it to go, on the good years, she would have more time to try and sweet talk her mother into at least thinking about what she wanted for once. “I just wish I was out there, with other people watching the lanterns go up into the stars.” She pauses, “Just like every other year.” 

  
  


Maybe it was finally _the_ year, her one chance. She still had a few days until the actual ceremony took place, when dozens of lanterns filled the sky with light that illuminated the darkness of the night. If Clarke was successful in talking to her mother tonight, then she would have time to make it into town and make a lantern of her own. She would be surrounded by hundreds of people, instead of the mere handful that began the warning of the lanterns travel so she wouldn't feel alone. 

  
  


_Maybe_. 

  
  


“It’s the same answer every year.” Her mother says with a tight voice, anger hesitant to rise in her reply. “Clarke, you can’t go outside and you know _why_. Would you risk the lives of innocent people just to see those lanterns rise? When you’re perfectly safe inside.” 

  
  


When her mother says it like _that_ , like her dreams should’ve vanished when she was a child and not a girl who seeks adventure, it was an easy answer. 

“Of course not,” She’s too quick to respond, “But have you ever thought of how happy it’d make me to finally see the lights?” Clarke rises to her feet just as the last trumpet blares, and she faces the bright array of orange and yellow that erupts in the night. _It’s beautiful, like always_. Like it is every year, and every time she looks out into the sky. “I want that, I want to see _them_.” 

  
  


Her mother’s hands fall to her lap, and she sighs. “Honey, it’s not safe for you out there.” 

  
  


She wouldn’t say this aloud, especially to the woman who does her best to keep her beloved safe every day, but Clarke would risk her life out in the forest than stay stuck in the highest level of a tower for the rest of her days. It creates a deep regret in the bottom of her stomach, the thought of not even looking back at the life she would leave behind. 

  
  
Yet, she still finds herself fueling her argument for the first time ever. It was something she wouldn’t of thought or dare to have done earlier in her life, but she assumed that eighteen would make her more courageous. “I can live in sorrow for the rest of my life while others get to see the lights in the sky, how is that fair?” 

"What if I wear gloves?" Clarke argued, extending her arms out in front of her. "I won't touch anybody and nobody would know who I am, that would surely _help_ -" 

Her mother frowns, shaking her head back and forth. "You know that won't work dear, you won't have control if you go outside. It would be sensory overload, and I know my daughter enough to not believe that she would forget about who she truly is." 

  
  


Her mother gestures for Clarke to sit back down in front of her, and her daughter follows her command with a huff passing her lips and defeat evident in her slumped shoulders. 

“See, my child.” She begins to explain, grabbing ahold of Clarke’s blonde hair and threading her fingers through the strands to make a braid and grabbing one of the flowers in the basket next to her feet to add. Her answer would never change, “Life is sometimes unfair, like you say. And I’m truly sorry that I can’t allow you to leave this tower, but I can hope that I’ve given you many things to be happy about.” 

  
  


“Yes, mother.” Clarke whispered, closing her eyes when she remembers the many smiles and laughs she’s enjoyed in her own company. With nobody to talk to, she learned to entertain herself with drawing or peeking through small cracks in the cement to see if she can spot anything unfamiliar. It was a game she created long ago, during one of her mother’s day trips that would leave her alone for hours. She couldn’t lie, “I can’t complain about the life you’ve given me, even putting yourself at risk sometimes.” 

  
  


“Don’t worry about putting me at harm, dear.” Her mother added sweetly, tugging harder on her daughter’s hair once she reached the ends of the braid. She was silent for a few seconds which confused Clarke, because she didn’t know how to change the subject either. “My love for you will never put me at risk, because _I’m_ the exception for you, Clarke. Nothing can happen to me if you think I should live, since we are so close.” 

  
  


Clarke could feel tears form in her eyes, thankful for her mother’s love and fearless attitude as the glow of the floating lights color the night sky in shades of blinding orange and yellow. There was a song playing in the distance, and she thinks it may be a celebration of a sort as the trumpets soon turn into violins and the lights fly higher into the clouds. 

  
  


In response to her daughter’s silence, her mother speaks up with a light tone as a distraction with a hand on her shoulder.  
  


“I’ll tell you what,” She begins. “When the real show happens in a few days, I’ll bring you one of those floating lights that has fallen to the ground from the mainland.” 

  
  


Clarke almost forgot about that. The fact that another, the _real_ light show adorned by the presence of the King and Queen would occur the night of her birthday. The night when she’d be alone and force herself to fall asleep after finding nothing else to do because a girl could only watch the lights rise for so long before it stung to realize she wasn’t there with everyone else. She stands carefully, making her way towards the window to try and get a glimpse at the lights that could’ve floated in the direction of the forest so she could get a good look at the design cover. 

  
  


She sighs blissfully, taking a mental note of the silver crest in the middle of the fabric cover with purple and gold outlines around the shape. 

  
  


“You should start getting ready for bed, Clarke.” Her mother proposed, running her hands down the front of her dress and standing from the stool to gather the belongings she had brought in with her. “It’s getting late, so I'll say goodnight now sweetheart.” 

  
  


She tunes out the sound of her mother's small footsteps, choosing not to think about yet another failed attempt at viewing the wonders of the world. Her world would forever be inside these four walls, and nothing else. It would be for the well-being of the kingdom, and those who haven’t known the cursed child of Arkadia who seemed to ruin everything on her first day of life. 

It would simply have to do. 

  
  


Clarke forces a smile, although her lips are flat-lined and she won’t look at her mother in fear of crying as if she was a child. She had to be satisfied with her life, knowing there was no other way to go outside without her mother’s permission, so why was she such in despair for being told no for the thousandth time? 

  
  


She should’ve learned by now. 

  
  


To her mother’s turned backside, Clarke climbs into her bed and pulls the covers over her torso before calling out in one last request. “Mother, can you close the blinds? The lights are a bit much for me tonight.” 

  
  


More like, it was all she ever wanted to see for the rest of her life. The one time where she felt truly happy, it would be her birthday week because of the floating lights. 

It was cruel to be so close to something she wanted more than anything. 

  
  


Her mother nods, and closes the curtains as far as they can go before walking out of the room and clicking the door shut. Clarke’s heart felt too heavy, as minutes turned into hours of her staring at the mural on the opposite side of her bedside and straining her eyes with being unable to fall asleep. The darkness of the room makes the pain sweeter, as the last thought Clarke has for the night includes the introduction of a dream she would never see become a reality. 

  
  


But, she has hope that someday her curse can be lifted. 

  
  


Her mother didn’t know, but Clarke would always say a wish before the very first lamp floated past the trees. It was something she did every year, since she was little, and she mumbled the wish in a few words under her breath before she fell asleep. 

  
  


_I wish to see the lights_. 

  
  


A wish wouldn’t harm anyone but herself, because it would never come true. 


	2. The Start Of Something New

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Suddenly, just as Bellamy’s hand reaches for the small knob of the person’s dresser, a voice behind him squeals in surprise which makes him flinch and pull his hand back immediately. 
> 
> He doesn’t have time to explain himself, or to even turn around to face the person who hits him in the back with enough force to make his knees buckle. He tried to catch himself with one hand, as the other cradles his middle spine because the surge of pain was spreading and he couldn’t see straight anymore; but he failed miserably. Knowing that the stranger’s dainty hands couldn’t been the object that hit him, (the squeal also have that piece of information away, because the high pitched tone reminded him of his sister), he tried to remember the impact of the object as his mind goes fuzzy and his voice is nowhere to be found.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so so so, excited for this story to kick off. Thank you for reading! find me at twitter @bobsmcrleys

Bellamy quickly crosses his satchel over his head to rest on his shoulder, tugging on the strap to make sure it was secure. It was a last minute precaution, as he pushes past wide bushes and fallen apple trees that would surely block the trails of any royal guardsmen with their horses who try and find him this far into the forest. 

  
  


It was dangerous to leave behind Atom and Murphy, knowing they had been by his side for years. He felt bad, of course, but they were getting clumsy with distracting the guards at the palace and the three of them barely scraped by without getting caught. The minute that Bellamy opened the case to reach for the queen’s crown, he hadn’t blinked in the process of grabbing the gold and running in the opposite direction of his partners. It happened so fast, pushing the back door of the museum hall and grabbing the saddle to pull himself up onto his horse and riding through a narrow trail away from the palace. 

  
  


He trusted that Murphy and Atom were able to escape as well, but his mind had gone completely blank once the whistle was blown behind him. The guardsmen were after him and he grew immensely grateful that Atom had taught him how to ride safely in such a short span of two months, so he had the upper hand in navigating tough terrain and navigating his way through the forest and never seemed to end. He had an instinct that the Royal guards didn't have enough experience chasing after criminals in the rough terrain of the forest, because he was able to ride further and further until he didn't hear the blow of their whistles behind him. 

  
  


Now, he was on foot and has been for the past ten minutes. Bellamy had to abandon his horse a mile back east, after letting her bite into an apple he held out for her and jumping over any obstacle in his way. His heart was beating fast with adrenaline, like how he feels after every steal he manages to get away with-but this felt different, for the obvious reason that he could very much end up dead if the guards caught the bandit with the Queen's crown—and he just knew that had one thing to do. 

  
  


_Run fast and for as long as he can_. 

  
  


His legs were burning, his body wanting him to stop to spare a moment of relaxation but he couldn’t allow himself to do it. He would rest once he was safe, and as he leaps forward to jump over a particularly large tree stump, he sees something from the corner of his eye. It was a promise to himself he had to keep, to make the journey worth the risk. 

Wiping the sweat that lines his forehead, Bellamy is relieved to see a open clearing of land that looked surprisingly vacant. He checks behind his backside once more, breathing heavily as he tried to listen carefully for any sound of hooves racing towards him in the distance or any shouting for his name and thankfully, he was met with silence. The only obstacle in his way was the wall of prickly bushes covered in rose thorns that outlined the circle-shaped piece of land, and he made sure to step over instead of push through them. Although, Bellamy was sure that the guardsmen would get annoyed by his clever escapes by now--it was the fifth time they've chased him around the kingdom, if he remembered correctly--and would leave him alone for the time being, he had never stolen something as precious as the Queen's crown. 

It felt heavy in his satchel, the pointed tips prick into his side through the thin material of his bag. 

If he allowed himself to believe that stealing was wrong after all this time of doing so, his guilt would be eating him alive. 

In an effort to avoid the negativity that threatens to make him surrender, he reminds himself that he needed to steal the crown to bargain for his sister's life. She was the only person, the only family he had left in the kingdom, and he needed to keep her safe. It makes his stomach twist, the thought of Octavia in a lonesome jail cell for a crime she was coerced into committing. 

He had told her multiple times that they couldn't manage getting caught by the guards, after years of neglecting the law and trying to make a life for themselves. Bellamy had only started to steal food from markets on the street, and it had gotten more serious when he would sneakily unclip jewelry from noble women while walking down the road. Then, he would make trouble with the guards by teasing them about their outfits or superiority. When he stole a guardsmen jacket from the saddle of a Royal horse, it was the day he had met Atom and John Murphy while running away from the town square into an alley way. It had been two years ago now, and Bellamy thought about how he helped them plan their own robbery of the only trade exchange center in all of Arkadia,

Bellamy knew what he was doing was wrong, but he couldn't lose track of what was really important to him now. He couldn't die for the extent of his crimes, not until he rescued Octavia and exchanged her life for the return of the Queen's vacant crown. 

However, getting back to the task of keeping himself alive—Bellamy patted himself down as he lifted his other leg to step over the bushes, not wanting to find any stubborn pricks on his skin later—and took a deep breath of relief.

He hunched over, both hands gripping his thighs as he tries to relax for a moment and clear his head. He was exposed more than he would've liked, with wide gaps between the tall trees and the silence of the wind made him anxious as his leather boots crunched in the grass when he walks forward. There was a tower in front of him, it must've been at least eight floors high if he had to take a guess, held together by cement bricks and one single window that stood at the very top with vines growing from the frame. 

Bellamy knew it would be risky, with the height of the tower surpassing the tallest tree that was nearby—it could make an easy target, or the best hiding place he's ever seen—but he didn't have a choice if he wanted to comfortably spend a few days without the guardsmen intense search for the crown. 

With his luck, they would end up thinking that he ran off to Polis by nightfall. 

It was what he was hoping for as he tried to forget his nerves for a moment and focus on removing the ladder from its locked hinges above his head. His heart was pounding as every second passed, his body was weak and he couldn’t pull the ladder down with much force. Bellamy knew he had to tug harder, but he was clueless in the reason why he couldn’t get a grip and detach the hinges from the bottom. 

Before he tried again, he reached for the door knob that taunted him in front of his face and tried to twist, it was either locked or too rusted to even pull back. 

  
He doubted there was even an entrance behind the broken frame, the wood was cracked and turning different shades of brown under the light. If he was honest, he’s had too many experiences with trap doors that made him skeptical of doors in random places and this door looked like it was drilled into the cement for decoration. 

With quick reassurance of the silent trees around him, heron a deep breath and wrapped both hands around the second step of the ladder and pulled himself up. Once he realized that the ladder was actually stuck in place, he fought the urge to laugh at himself and began climbing the ladder as fast as he could. Even if he felt safe for the time being, he wanted to hide in the shadows for a while and find somewhere to sleep. 

  
Bellamy caught his lip between his teeth, biting back a loud curse as he reaches for the next step to grab onto but finding nothing but stone bricks. He looked up with squinted eyes, wondering what had happened as his other hand grips tightly onto the very top of the ladder steps. 

The window was within a foots length reach, but he would have to muster enough strength to pull himself up and over the ledge to stumble into the unknown space. He could feel his calves begin to burn again, and he didn’t want to slip and have his death written as weak and foolish for not being able to climb up the side of an abandoned tower made of cement and stone. (Although he was sure that whatever happened to him in the end would be written that way in the hands of the kingdom for the things he’s done. They were always the childish ones.) 

“You can’t just,” Bellamy began to tell himself, gritting his teeth as he outstretched his arm to grab at the ledge. He adjusted to get a good grip, making sure he wouldn’t fall as he continued the encouragement. “ _just_ die here, you need to keep going.” 

  
He thought of Octavia in that moment, how scared she must be without him. 

  
Bellamy pulls up slowly, so both feet are standing on the metal spots that kept the bars connected—knowing he had to make it very quick or else the entire ladder would collapse under his weight, and he really didn’t want to risk the possibility—and once he’s convinced that his shaky hands could keep him from falling, he’s able to kick at loose bricks under his feet and create steps of his own. 

  
He makes progress, being able to keep his balance stable stepping onto the three new open slots for his boots to fit into. He was much closer to the ledge now, and it gave him the confidence he needed to throw one of his legs over and sit. Bellamy hisses as his skin scratches against the rough cement, and he looks down to see his pants bunched up around his calves instead of his ankles. 

The three steps he was able to chip away gave him the advantage to get comfortable, but it drained him of the energy he was trying to maintain. 

  
_Oh, great_. 

  
He untwisted the straps of his satchel that got tangled on the climb as he scans the area in front of him. His vision is blurry with the ache in his muscles finally catching up to him, but the bright colors on the walls make his eyes go wide. Bellamy lifts his other leg over the ledge, and his feels his whole body shake as he stands upright to take in his surroundings. 

  
It was the simple things that made him smile, he thought. 

  
The room was big, almost the size of his home in the busy part of the town square in Arkadia, adorned with various paintings of the sky and lanterns that reached the very top of the ceiling. It was hard to strain his neck to admire them. Bellamy peeled back the purple curtain that kept blowing in his face, to reveal a bed hiding in the corner of the room. There was a vanity with a cracked mirror, painted white with a single hairbrush sitting on the desk. He was considerate of the collection of paint cans that littered the floor in front of him, focusing his attention on other things that caught his eye. 

  
He was almost more tempted to look through the notebooks and sketchbooks that were stacked on the floor, than falling asleep on the bed. 

  
_It looked like someone was living here_. 

  
The brush was a giveaway, and he should’ve known from the beginning. 

  
_It was a girl_. 

  
Then, why was the room so quiet? He should at least be hearing the sound of footsteps or someone racing towards him so he could introduce himself. 

  
Bellamy walked cautiously, taking careful steps as each floorboard creaked under his feet. He walked to the closet that stood beside the girl’s bed first, with the one intention to see if anyone was hiding from him. He didn’t mean no harm, but he truly did want to be polite and ask if there was anywhere he could stay. 

  
The nerves began to rise in his throat, the thought of being somewhere where he wasn’t allowed was something that wouldn’t usually scare him. He was a thief in the eyes of most, and he shouldn’t be afraid of confrontation. 

  
It made him paranoid of every little thing, not knowing what he should do next or risk the possibility of being caught by the guards after hours of waiting for someone to return and speak to him. 

  
Suddenly, just as Bellamy’s hand reaches for the small knob of the person’s dresser, a voice behind him squeals in surprise which makes him flinch and pull his hand back immediately. 

  
He doesn’t have time to explain himself, or to even turn around to face the person who hits him in the back with enough force to make his knees buckle. He tried to catch himself with one hand, as the other cradles his middle spine because the surge of pain was spreading and he couldn’t see straight anymore; but he failed miserably. Knowing that the stranger’s dainty hands couldn’t been the object that hit him, (the squeal also have that piece of information away, because the high pitched tone reminded him of his sister), he tried to remember the impact of the object as his mind goes fuzzy and his voice is nowhere to be found. 

  
Bellamy wanted to move his hand from supporting the injury against his spine, so he could catch himself as he fell on the ground—but the pain wasn’t as unbearable with pressure applied and he was never one to want to fight anyone. 

He didn’t want to harm anyone. 

  
He wished he could say it aloud, but when the object strikes again in the same spot with hesitation, he lets out a loud groan of protest. It hurt like hell, but he was also glad that it wasn’t Murphy or Atom who wanted revenge right now. They would do much worse after leaving them to the Royal Guards, and falling unconscious didn’t sound like a bad idea when his eyes felt heavy. Bellamy rolls onto his back, his curls fell away from his face to reveal the person standing in front of him. 

  
He was laying in between the person’s stance, but when their eyes lock, she retracts her steps towards the doorway like he had burned her. 

Before his eyes fluttered shut in a mix of dizziness and the overwhelming need to rest as his adrenaline disappears, he bites back the response that would be pointing out the obvious. 

  
She has blonde hair and blue eyes that made it impossible to look away. And he wouldn’t be upset if he was dying right now, because the last thing he would’ve seen in his life would’ve been a beautiful sight. He would only be upset with the girl because she must’ve heard his struggle with climbing the side of her tower and chose not to help him, but she didn’t let him explain before attacking him. 

She was pretty, _sure_ he would give her the satisfaction, but she was also impatient and rude. 

  
It was a mistake— because now he was lying completely vulnerable, lying unconscious in the girl’s bedroom, on her cold floor with the queen’s crown digging into his hip as his body fell limp. For a moment, he wishes he never stole the crown in the first place if it meant that he would end up here. He couldn't even protect it. 

  
Bellamy falls asleep before he even realizes, and he invited the darkness with a warm welcome because it gave him a fresh outlook on the world—and a clear mind that would be full of ideas to leave this tower without another attack from a violent girl with blonde hair that glowed in the orange sunset illuminating through the window and against her skin. 


End file.
